


Loog and the Maiden of Wind

by LycheeCannon



Series: Dimitri X Byleth OTP [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Historical, Prequel, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 21:55:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycheeCannon/pseuds/LycheeCannon
Summary: Dimitri tell his son the most famous story of his country's history. Of all the beloved folklore of Faerghus none even hold a candle to the chivalrous tales of Loog— the Warrior King who liberated Faerghus from tyrannical Adrestian rule in the year 751. His story, unembellished.Requests here: bbnoodles.tumblr.comTalk to me here: https://twitter.com/BbNoodles1





	Loog and the Maiden of Wind

**Author's Note:**

> So this first chapter doesn't have too much going on but I have three chapters written for this so far and I like where it's headed right now! Please show me some love that reading this particular novelization is interesting at all as I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)

Before his son ever took his first steps, before he ever held his first weapon, he knew the story of the King of Lions.

All Faerghusian children grew up to the tales of Loog sailing into the Tailtean Plains atop his winged griffin with Kyphon leading the charge below and Pan pulling the strings from afar. Childhood squabbles broke out about who got to play Loog and who got to play the Maiden of Wind. Sworn brothers took an Oath of the White Tower. Men would present their lovers with a tailored cloak made from their own clothing. The Fulgarite throne at the capital still stood even after seven hundred years-- forged in the lightning breath of an emissary of the Goddess. They even said that it was seeing that throne for the first time that the Archbishop sanctioned the War of the Eagle and Lion.

Lughnasadh was celebrated every year on the day that it was said that the Savior King brought home the Gronder Accords with his wife and sons in tow. It was the only time in recorded history that people had ever seen the Maiden of Wind. Girls fawned over the implication that she was an incarnation of Sothis herself sent to legitimize Loog's quest for independence. By some stroke of misfortune, the stories said that she disappeared one year after Loog's victory, turned to wind by the goddess since her duty had been completed--her real name was lost to history. But her likeness, her story lived on long after as Kyphon and Loog built the nation.

Then, when the work was done decades later, Loog disappeared. Never to be seen again. Much of the country’s culture was founded and based upon the life of its first King because the foundations of the country were steeped in history.

Dimitri’s personal copy was love worn. The royal family had access to the original, but when Dimitri was a babe, his mother painstakingly scribed a personal copy to read to him that had all of her own personal touches to the story. Before she married Lambert, she’d been a historian in the royal archives and had extensively studied Loog’s life. She was enamored with the story-- knew more about it than any other historian ever had. Deciphered more of the winding threads and uncertainty in the tale more than any one had previously. After her death, father and son had poured over the story over and over until both could recite her personal rendition. In fact, only in reading her words on paper could Dimitri even begin to recall what her voice sounded like.

When she died, his father would pull the boy onto his lap and read him chapter after chapter.

After the incident in Duscar, everything changed. The young man angrily threw the book at the librarian, not giving a second thought to what happened to it. Furious that children believed in such swill. Things only worked out in stories. Real life was not so forgiving.

Men did not get the honor of meeting women like the Maiden, friends did not come as loyal as Kyphon or Pan. Loog was just an embellished fantasy character who never had to suffer the way real people did.

So, when he found a woman like the Maiden of Wind and realized his friends were his Kyphon all along, he felt the crushing shame of betraying his mother’s memory. When his wife bore him a son, he mournfully recalled the book and wish that he had it to share with his own child. As it turned out, Byleth hadn’t read it either. The man did not shed many tears in life but when the wizened old librarian showed up at his chambers the morning after his son was born, carrying a yellowing wrapped package, Dimitri could scarcely believe his eyes. He took the book in hand and immediately went to Byleth’s bedside, asking her if she wanted him to read to her while she recovered in bed. She beamed and nodded.

\------

Snow layered over the winter tundra— barren trees sent their spiraling branch up towards the heavens with open arms. The morning sun filtered over the terrain with fingers of gold over the ridges of the fresh sheet of ice that formed overnight. Overhead, migratory birds beat their wings to a common tattoo, casting shadows beneath in stark contrast with the land.

A copse of crimson maple trees sheltered a small campsite of three tents, a modest cart, and six horses. The watchman idly poked at the dying fire, it was almost time to wake his companions but given the news that they were riding back to their fathers, they needed all the rest they could get. He himself had taken two watches to get some peace and quiet to mull over his thoughts. Parchment was a precious commodity in the North and Loog had already crumpled several pieces at his feet and fed them to the fire as he tried to figure out what to say.

He sighed deeply, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away the weariness from his eyes. The breath suspended for but a moment before sweeping forward in a wave of white. Loog pulled his fur cloak closer to his chest, patting away scintillating flakes of frost clinging to the warm sable trim.

He looked out over the frozen lands he’d called home and briefly pictured the spring— the state of Faerghus was beautiful, even more so as wildflowers started to poke through the blanket of cold as Sothis warmed the earth with her embrace. Loog spent many a night in his childhood chasing warm summer evening fireflies and bathing in crisp rivers His father was the current Duke of Faerghus and despite all the trappings of a noble life, some of his favorite memories were of wandering the markets of Fhirdiad. Sleeping an arms-length away were Kyphon— his distant cousin— from the state of Chulainn, their porter, two knights from his home state, and Kyphon’s sister in law and their healer, Saoirse. Despite it behind an hour from when Loog originally meant to wake the party, he could solemnly hear the sound of Saoirse’s muffled crying. She likely had not slept properly in days. Goddess knew that she hadn't eaten in that long either.

The original party that went to Arundel consisted of over twenty people but the emperor had been enraged, _culling_ as he called it, down to teach the dukedom humility for not being able to properly pay taxes the last few years due to increasingly poor harvests as well as failing to quell an uprising of peasants near Garreg Mach that turned violent. As reparation, the emperor had slaughtered Kyphon's brother-- the father of Saoirse's unborn baby, Loog's uncle, and several other party members, and asked the young man to bring their bones back to Fhirdiad to put on display. 

Loog felt disgusted. They said that madness and greatness were two sides of the same coin but von Hresvelgs seldon had one but not the other. 

His horse, Failinis nickered and shook some snow off of his broad back. They’d been riding almost nonstop for four days since departing Emperor Cermait’s summer quarters in Arundel but the afternoon prior, something had changed in the wind—spooking the horses so much that they refused to go further towards the mountain pass through Teutates leading to Manannán.

Winter was setting in and the even though the snow was early, they had no choice but to march on-- the mountain pass would oft collapse during the snowy months, making passage an impossibility. 

The wind swept up his frosty breath and carried it towards Sothis as the light creeping over the horizon over the looming mountains, pushing the blackness of night away from the small party back towards Brionac Plateau.

**Author's Note:**

> :) Where do YOU want to see this go? 
> 
> Fire Emblem Three Houses is strongly influenced by Irish mythology and this story will draw extremely heavily from it! I'm looking forward to writing a researched fic like this one!


End file.
